Dinner was over, and it was time for Potions "class" (really, detention, but as they had been excused from actual class, and their marks were riding on it, it was really class). Hermione had bookmarked about five pages worth of material in seven different books, and had about three proposed "improvements" to their potion. Smoothing her dress - as smoothing her hair would make precisely no difference, she stepped into the room and began to prepare the workspace. Not that it wasn't perfectly clean - Snape always had someone to clean the cauldrons - generally Longbottom, she thought with a pang of guilt at not helping him. But, honestly, this was fascinating! They were moving ahead, and learning more about experimentation than the 7th year NEWT students generally did.
Draco Malfoy was precisely three minutes early, using the open door to the Potions classroom (and why hadn't she closed it? A stray gust of wind could spoil the flame) to look inside as he lurked out in the hallway. If he was as dark as Zambini, he'd have felt like a groo. Instead, he felt like a lost ghost, watching Granger put the workspace together, ruthless efficiency marred slightly by doublechecking the books. If she was to be a professional, she'd have to get over that, Draco Malfoy thought idly. With a soft beep, his time spell reminded him he was supposed to enter. Schooling his face to passivity was instinct, and it happened just as he crossed the threshold, remembering to shut the door.
Severus Snape was in his quarters, grading papers as usual, when he heard the raised voices. Standing up, he strode swiftly to the door - getting halfway there before he realized that it was Granger and Draco. He had lost track of time, again. Cursing his inattentiveness, he found himself distracted anew by the conversation on the other side of the door. Granger's arguments unfolded like the petals of a rose, precise and yielding up sweetness if one bothered to listen to all of them. Not that Snape had ever liked roses - he had always been fonder of weeds. Draco's arguments were a duelist's, parrying with his short knife, and slashing with the saber, his cloak dangling from an arm to baffle his opponent. Miss Granger never really had a chance - Draco was far too skilled, trapping her in uncertainty, or moving so that the ground she had claimed was obviously his. Gryffindors were always so blasted straightforward - which had never before seemed such a shame. With Miss Granger's intellect, she'd have been a formidable debater... With a shrug, Severus Snape thought, I suppose the light will have to settle for a strategist. With another frown, Snape thought of all the hidden dangers a Slytherin could weave. A Gryffindor's sense of strategy was to charge in boldly. It was stupid, and implausible, and ever so arrogant.
By the end of the lesson, Snape cracked the door to two winded children (Granger, to no one's surprise, was glaring at Draco), and one very perfect looking potion. "Do you have some suggestions for improvement?" Snape asked in his silky voice.
Draco spoke up, "Yes sir," as his eyes flicked warningly to Miss Granger.
"Elaborate, if you please." Severus Snape purred, and Hermione Granger began to speak.
Severus made a few suggestions, and left the two brewing. He'd check on them later, just to make certain they weren't... preoccupied.
[a/n: Hermione Granger makes clean, well-manicured arguments. I hope you enjoyed the description of an argument, while leaving the details entirely out. Is this too much tell and not enough show? Please, do write a review!]